


Azrael is a kinkster

by Granddaughter_Ogg



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Azrael is seriously troubled, Biting, Death is bad with them feelings, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Dom, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, Light Sadism, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sadism, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex, Sex Talk, Slow Build, Spanking, azrael is a kinkster, but he tries his best, but still classy tho, but we love him anyway, he's also a sadist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-07 08:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Granddaughter_Ogg/pseuds/Granddaughter_Ogg
Summary: What hides behind Archangel Azrael's venerable demeanour?Well, the cat's out of the bag now; he's actually into sexual dominance. And ropes.Also, he has massive hots for you, the female reader - and very much vice versa! You two meet over a seemingly innocent cup of tea and things get...unholy.There's also a short, but sweet fluffy scene with Death thrown in for good measure.You live with the Four Horsemen and pretty much date Death at the time - but this is an open relationship, so everyone is gonna be alright in the end. Yay to love! Yay to ethical sexual self-fulfilment!It's a slow build - please take into consideration. Explicit sexytimes start in the second chapter.Enjoy!Comments fill my little black heart with glee.





	1. Foreplay

Some people just burst with sexual energy. Their stare strikes sparks, their body language is hypnotising.

You have serious trouble listening to what they say, because your mind is occupied with…very nonverbal things.

You’ve met quite a few of such people lately.  
Azrael is not one of them.  
If you had to describe Azrael in one word, it would probably be:  
decent.  
Of course, the Archangel of Death possesses a lot more traits than this. He’s wise. He’s also candid, tactful and immensely empathetic.

Yeah, he overflows with empathy. You’ve yet to see him lose his temper. Which is no small feat, considering how easy it would be to crack the shits in the company of your beloved Darksiders.

Hell, there are moments when even you get a bit overwhelmed. They are four very distinctive personalities who bicker a lot.

There are days when Death is being more difficult than usual, War is pouting somewhere in the corner, Fury lashes out at everyone and Strife decides it’s the perfect time to tell a poop joke.  

You told him once what you think about poop jokes. Remains to be seen if the message has come through.  
On days like this you feel like pulling your hair out.

Enter Azrael. Azrael the tactful, Azrael the charming. Azrael with this level, kind, yet irresistible voice of his. And magic happens.

You suspect that the key to the angel’s success is that he respects everyone. He believes in equality. And his attitude comes through. He brings out the best in people.

He and War are practically war buddies. Even though you find it impossible to imagine how their cooperation looked like.

Death is actually fond of him; and people who Death’s fond of could be counted using fingers on a sawmiller’s hand. A very unlucky sawmiller’s hand.

Fury loses her aggressive attitude when Azrael is around. Even Strife, who doesn’t like the guy that much – begrudgingly respects him.  
You feel that the angel should work in NATO. He could save humanity from many wars.

That said, those are all not very sexy traits.  
You fail to imagine Azrael engaging in anything erotic. Of course, you’re a big girl now - and aware that it doesn’t take a testosterone-addled hunk to have an interesting sex life. Never the less, your angelic acquaintance always looks way too occupied with more important matters. Much more important.

Speaking of looks. He isn’t classically attractive, but has a great profile. And beautiful hands. You always watch them eagerly whenever they emerge from all those fancy sleeves.  
Oops.

Anyway, you two are now friends, right? It’s been a few months since War took you on a trip to Heaven. You’ve visited quite a few times since.

Sometimes accompanied by one of the Horsemen, sometimes by all of them. The angel and the Darksiders had their own pressing matters to discuss, of course. But Azrael always made sure that you feel important and welcome.

He would brew you great tea (seriously, you’ve never tasted better.) You two would talk at length; mostly about books.

This guy is a crazy book magpie. He collects them all. Angel ones, human ones. he’s not too haughty to read the demonic ones either.

If something has been written down, Azrael sooner or later will get his shapely, narrow hands on it. And then he’ll sniff it.  

He probably sniffs books.

_I require pleasant company for the weekend.  
Would you care to come alone?_

You got this mail on a Friday afternoon.  

Really terse, considering who the sender was.

If, say, Strife wrote it – you’d suspect that someone clobbered his head with a thesaurus. But emails from Azrael were usually at least one page long.

And he wasted entire paragraphs asking you about the weather, about how you were doing and so on.  
This message was almost…sloppy. Hectic.  
You pondered a little. Reminisced over his subtle smile and those pretty hands, caressing some large-ass tome.

Azrael probably obtained a first edition of Balzac or some such and he couldn’t wait to show it to you.

Well, you were down with that.

_Sure, I’ll come around. Just give me about two Earth hours, okay? I’ll pack the essentials and also change into something spiffy._

_Excellent. I’ll open a portal next to your house. And yes, please do dress nicely. Although you always do._

Oh Azrael, you smooth-tongued lad.

„Guys, I’m going to Heaven for the weekend” you proclaimed, standing in the doorway of your shared living room.  
(Yes, you and the Horsemen live together. You’ve bought a house. But it’s a different story for another time.)

There were no objections to that. All Four had a day off from their murderous duties. They spent whole Friday lazing around on sofas, watching youtube or just dozing off. You’ve already learned that the Horsemen are like predators in that department. They don’t spend energy unless they have to.    
„So. You’re going now?” muttered War. He was lying on his back, one arm tucked under his head, the other – the iron one – hanging limply. It already carved a trace on the wooden floor.  
„Well, yeah. Azrael invited me” you answered absentmindedly. „Now I need to do my hair…no, first I need a bath!”  
Death was resting on another sofa nearby. He raised his head a little and gave you an inquiring stare. It was short and piercing, like a tiny electric shock.

„Loosen up, girl” chuckled Strife. He had both eyes closed. A PS4 pad and a half-eaten doughnut rested on his tight abdomen; remnants of impulsive decisions, defeated by idleness. Sometimes you wondered how is it even possible to eat so much junk and still look like Strife does.

„Whatever you’ll do, he’s still gonna be the sharpest dresser.”

„Yeah right, but I don’t mean just him, but all the other angels, too. I don’t want his colleagues from work to think that he’s friends with some uncivilised slob…”

„Colleagues from work” said War slowly and pensively, as he often does. „That’s a flattering way to put it, when he rules them all with an iron fist. You know that, don’t you? No lesser angel will dare to offend you. And if one does…

„…then we’ll come over and have a chat with them” finished Strife. „It’s been some time since I’ve plucked pigeons.”

„Thanks, guys. I appreciate that” you said, genuinely grateful. „But I’ll feel so much better if I doll myself up. You know how Azrael is…so posh and all.”

„He’s hella boring though” said Strife. „What are you even gonna do with him for two days straight? Drink his wretched tea?”

„That too, yes.” You smiled. „But I can feel it in my water that it’s about a book.”

You’ve been already closing the bathroom door behind you, when Strife said in a hushed voice: „It’s always about some book. That guy’s a pervert.”

„Stop it, Strife. ” That was War.

‘What? I call it like it is.”

Fury said nothing, because she was fast asleep. She snored tiny cute snores.

***

Death might be a big, intimidating mass of sinew and bone. But he can move like a soft pool of shadow if he chooses to. He did just that to get you at the very doorstep, away from the others’ earshot.

„So, when can we expect you to come back?” He was standing next to the coat stand. You had no idea how he managed to blend in with the wall. As usual.    
His voice was relaxed, but you could feel the tightness lacing the words.

„Azrael’s gonna send me back on Sunday evening” you said, looking into this closed off, seemingly impassive face. You knew it so well.

„Death. Are you worried about me? I’m going to Heaven. Heaven. What could possibly go wrong in there?”

"I’m not worried” he said, observing some wall crack right to your head. „Azrael is my friend. I’d entrust him with my life. I’m just…ascertaining things.”

You let out a deep sigh. You felt so sorry for this man, unable to spit out a simple „I’m gonna miss you” even if his life depended on it.  

But that’s what he was saying. With all his body language. His back bent slightly more, his arms hanging a little looser than usual. As if the sadness weighed on him.  
You embraced him - abruptly, before he had a chance to step back. You pressed your cheek to his hard, exposed torso, which (contrary to the folk stories that we humans sometimes tell each other) wasn’t cold at all.  
„I love you so much, you know?” you whispered into his left pectoral. That horrible scar has long disappeared without a trace. „I am going to be back home on Sunday evening. Even if Azrael conjures me a truck of books. I promise.”

Death’s large hands embraced your shoulder blades. The Horseman closed his eyes and pulled you close. Very close. And then he let go.  
„I know. Have fun.”

***

Heaven! Are there even words in any human language that could describe its glory? I don’t think so.

What if I tell you guys that everything is high-rise and steep and haughty in there?

That everything is luxurious, but never vulgar – and constantly bathed in subtle golden light? Are you going to be satisfied then?  
Angels live above the clouds. Rainy day is just an expression for them.

Wait. I’ve got it. Imagine an Apple store which has been designed by Michelangelo.

That was Heaven. Azrael lived in a lavish apartment at the top of one of the White City’s spires. At least you guessed that there must be more rooms than just this huge one. In which you’ve spent so many evenings, chatting passionately about this and that.

A spacious room with a decorative rib vault and a shit ton of books everywhere. Books upon books. Carved bookshelves crammed with tomes; some covered in wood, some in silk or even animal hide. A whole lot of regular cardboard covers, too. Azrael updated his collection on a regular basis. Many of those human books were gifts from you.

There were also scrolls of parchment and papyrus stacked together and threatening to fall over. Heck, you’re sure that you’ve spotted a bunch of dusty clay tablets in a corner.  

Next Christmas this guy is getting a Kindle.

You sat in two soft, obscenely comfortable armchairs, covered with slightly worn periwinkle velvet. Soft music poured from somewhere – relaxed, jazzy downtempo. You had no idea where do they get these earthy tunes from in Heaven. For all that you knew, Azrael wasn’t familiar with spotify.

You drank the tea. This time it was green jasmine. With a drop of acacia honey added for good measure.  
It tasted like the first day of spring.

Azrael put his cup aside, rested his cheek on his hand and gave you a gentle smile.

„What are you thinking about?’ You smiled back at him.

„I think that you look ravishing today. That colour” - he pointed at your peach dress - „really showcases the tone of your skin.”

„Wow. Thanks” you said. Internally you were squeeing in delight like an excited teenager. Azrael could be so chivalrous. OK, you thought, that’s enough with this line of thinking. Get your shit together, woman, before you tip something over and embarrass yourself.

„All right”, you said, putting your cup away; the fine china clinked on the marble tabletop. „Nice little chat that we’re having. Don’t keep me waiting though. Bring out the book!

The angel tilted his silver head ever so slightly. His eyes glinted with amusement.

„The book? I beg your pardon?”

„Well, it is about a book, isn’t it? Like usual. Some rare first edition long out of print, which you really wanted to share with me…Right? Azrael?”  
His eyes were as milky and opalescent as a cloud. And as serene. You started to blush under this constant stare.

„What?“ you asked, annoyed a little.

His narrow lips curled up in a cryptic smile.

„Come on, it’s not funny.”

„Indeed” he said slowly. „I’m afraid that I owe you an apology. I lied.”

„You…did what?!… When? Also, is lying even legal for you?”

„Just right now. I wasn’t thinking about your dress, even though it is quite lovely. I was thinking…” he reached out with his long, slender arm. His fingers stopped mid-air, a mere inch away from your face. „…that I would like to kiss you.”

There was a pause. During which your whole world twirled around, stood on its head and fell back to normal. Normal enriched with new, exciting possibilities, that is.

"Oh. Right. Sure! I mean, go on. I can’t see why not…”what started as a nervous chirp ended in a mumble.

Azrael put two fingers on your lips. You parted it; it was quite instinctive, really. You wanted him to touch you where you were soft and moist.

He did just that. For a briefest of moments. Than he took his hand away. „Come here” he said in a low voice.

„Okay. You mean…me, there? Right, that makes sense. God!” you whined. „ I’m so akward.”

„Let’s keep God out of this” Azrael said with such a face that it was practically a wink. But then again, you had yet to see the Angel of Death winking.

You stood up, not quite sure where your legs are – and came over to him as he asked. Azrael sat back in his armchair and pat his lap in an encouraging manner. It was the most un-Azrael thing that you’ve ever witnessed him do.  
Up until today. When the count of surprises was really going to pile up.

You were in such a daze that for a moment there you forgot how to sit on another person’s lap. Especially when said person’s lap is completely covered with sophisticated, flowy, floor-length angel robes.

„I said: come here”  chuckled Azrael. „Do you mind if I?…” he gestured explanatorily.

You nodded. Stupid redness burned your cheeks.

Azrael put his hands around your waist, lifted you up and put on his knees as if you were a cat. The silk rustled. He smelled nice. Definitely non-angelic. Like… roses, maybe?    
You knew that scent, you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

„What now?” you whispered, stricken with this dumb, embarrassing shyness which you haven’t felt in such a long time. Which you hoped to never feel again.

It wasn’t like that with the Darksiders. Not at all. Sometimes they would scare you or dumbfound you. But none of them has ever made you feel so small. Not like this highly restrained, immaculately dressed, back-combed man does.  

A man with beautiful cheekbones. That much was evident now, when you sat so close. They really were top notch.

„Can I?…” you breathed.

He nodded smilingly. All this time he didn’t break eye contact.  

You touched his cheek. It was pleasantly cool and softer than yours could ever be. Also, his face was covered with delicate fuzz, as bright as frost.

„Do you even shave, Azrael?”

„That is one peculiar question to ask” he said, still smiling.

„That is one peculiar question to ask” you repeated, leaning in desperately and closing your eyes. „Kiss me then.”

He weaved fingers into your hair and pulled your head in so sharply that you trembled. And then he kissed you.

He was gentle - at first. Tested your boundaries. But you had no patience for such subtlety anymore. You immersed both of your hands in angelic locks and moaned urgently, while you pressed your lips to his.

Well, you didn’t have to tell him twice.  

He laughed breathlessly at such eagerness and went in with the tongue.

And what a brilliant, flexible and knowing tongue he had. As expected of an angel.

Time stretched like the most polite and accommodating of rubber bands, so a thousand years (or two minutes) later you were all taut as a bowstring. And rather wet.

When it comes to the technique, his was definitely second to none. Azrael was the figure skating master of kissing. Those nimble lips of his were driving you crazy.  
He knew what he was doing to you. And he was savouring it.

„Mmmm…mhm! Don’t stop!” you groaned when the angel finally broke contact. He let out a small chuckle - and suddenly bit your lip.

„Azrael!” you cried out. He smirked so smugly you wouldn’t believe it if you didn’t see it. You had no idea that this noble face is even capable of such a dirty expression.

„Stop…laughing…at me!”

You were in a daze. You lunged forward and bit him back. Azrael cried out a little and touched his lip. It was bleeding.

You have drawn angelic blood. It was as bright red as your own.

That chilled you the fuck down.

„Oh, shit. I’m sorry!” you called, terrified. „I’m so sorry! I got carried away. Carried away…with you.”

Azrael wiped his lip and shot you an inscrutable stare. Only now have you noticed how wildly dilated his pupils are. The vivid blush that coloured his pale cheeks.

He wasn’t toying with you. He went along for the ride.

„I wasn’t laughing at you” he said. „How could I? I was laughing TO you. Because you’re just so ardent. Impulsive. You feel a physical sensation and you follow it with reckless abandon. I happen to think that it’s amazing.”

You felt like an utter moron. Something incredible has just happened. You had this little moment of magic, Azrael and you. And you had to destroy it. You let your worst instincts take the wheel.  
Just because this man made you feel inferior.

„I apologise for that” you said, gently touching his bitten lip.  

„I would never want to hurt you like that. I have no manners. Maybe I should just go.”

„What?…” Those pearlescent eyes went wide with surprise. „What are you talking about, my dear? Please don’t. That…” - he touched his lip - ”is nothing. A trifle unworthy of my attention. At least when compared with what I intend to do to you.”

„What?”  

Despite your desperate suggestion - you stayed still in his arms. Your heart was pounding. Your body ached for more pleasure. You didn’t want to go anywhere.

And Azrael was holding you quite firmly.

„I planned to be prudent and unhurried” he stated, shaking his head with a little rueful smile, as if admonishing himself.  

„But with you…such approach is pointless. You’re like a flame. You burn through my reason.”

He put his fingers on your swollen, wanting lips again. You let him slide them in this time. Slide them deeper than neither prudence nor unhurriedness would suggest.

You sucked on them and you looked him in the eye, feeling crazy fearless. Suddenly you didn’t care whether you come off as uncivilised anymore.

„I am going to undress you and tie you up. And then maybe I will whip you” said Azrael, looking you in the face with a tender smile.  

„I haven’t decided on that last one yet.”

Oh.  
Oh.

You felt like an ice cube melting on fire. Does that metaphor even make sense? An urgent, eager flame licked your innards.

„The question being of course: what do you say to that?”

„Yes!’ you cried out. „Oh, please, do it! I’m in. Yes to all of the above.”

He kissed you again – deep and hard. Unabashed. You didn’t even try to stifle the moan that rose in your throat.

„I can see that we are on the same page here” he breathed into your lips. Then he pressed his to the skin at the nape of your neck. You inhaled sharply.  
„I am so glad that that is the case.”

‘Wait” you huffed, putting both hands on the embroidered front of his shirt. „Did you just say: undress, tie up and whip then?”

„I said exactly that.” It was amazing how quickly Azrael could put on that official, venerable face of his.    
"And then I’m going to fuck you.”

„Good! I was just about to ask that…”

It was worth it. If only to see how this self-satisfied son of something holy looses his composure.  
And regains it in a split second.

„And not only once” he added. „Not twice either. There is a probability that by Sunday you’ll start to cry and beg me to stop fucking you.”

You threw him a breathless, shit eating grin. Your direct future looked positively – heavenly.

"Wonderful. I can beg alright, if it turns you on.”

„Very. You shall see for yourself”. There was something in his half-lidded stare that made your insides tingle.


	2. The fucking begins in earnest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azrael makes good on his promise to you; that you shall be undressed, tied up, maybe whipped - and then fucked.  
> Explicit content ahead. The Dom/sub dynamic is firmly present.  
> Azrael is the most tender, considerate sadist that ever was and I love him that way. :D

You were on fire.

Skin flushed, muscles taut, pulse quickened. Your body longed for some more. And all it took was Azrael kissing you.

Quite intensively, but still.

You could not wait for what he prepared next.

That he did prepare for this – meticulously - was beyond doubt. The angel was a master of strategic planning after all. At least that was the official side of him. The one that you got to know so far.

Right now his slender hand rested on your back, politely, but firmly directing you towards a long corridor. You could hardly feel the marble floor under your feet. A sudden thought flashed through the fog that filled your brain: do you actually know this man at all?

The mystery shrouding his personal life fascinated you. But it also made you feel small and inadequate. There he was, a wise, powerful, ageless being put in charge of some of the most crucial tasks in the Universe. And there were you, a human girl who got entangled in all this by a fateful accident. Yet somehow you stood your ground. That alone was a lot to be proud of, but of one thing you felt sure: someone as glorious as Azrael and someone like you could never be equals.

And now this belief started to shake. Maybe this desire could bring you and him to a common level. After all, passion renders all its subjects alike.

Did you actually dig the guy? Yes, very much. You didn’t even realize it before coming here today. But your body somehow knew. And it was eager for him.

You smiled to yourself. Apparently, you had it for men who were much taller than you and commanded authority.

Like Death.

You decided that you’re not going to think about him right now. It wouldn’t be fair towards Azrael. Later, much later you will tell your favourite Horseman all about this. He’ll undoubtedly be amused; maybe he’ll even throw his head back and let out this raspy little chuckle that you’ve learned to know and love. It turned out that the Nephilim had no concept of a sexually exclusive relationship. Heck, you even had to explain to him how being faithful or unfaithful works in most human cultures. Death didn’t care much about those customs, which to him felt foreign and pointless. The deal was that both of you can sleep with pretty much whoever you want, as long as you communicate properly. He knew that you love him first and foremost, and you were sure that he feels the same way about you. End of story.

Death would never stoop to jealousy. Not because he was such a noble creature. (He wasn’t.) But it just never have been taught to him. Ingrained into him.

How you adored this carefree pagan attitude to all things sexual. You wished that more humans would adopt it.

Speaking of high and low. You glanced towards the angel. He was actually walking. Like a regular human being! Up to this point you’ve mostly seen him soar on those majestic wings.

Your head could hardly reach his armpit. He was so tall and graceful, his body otherwise an enigma under the lavish robes. You’re going to crack this mystery really soon; the realisation hit you so hard that you trembled.

That was one long-ass corridor.

It ended in a wide, sunlit room with white walls and the biggest, most luxurious bed you’ve ever seen. It too was white. Had a canopy and all.

„Living the good life, eh, Azrael?” you murmured, smiling.

„Oh, usually I don’t sleep here” he answered. „It’s a guest bedroom.”

„Where do you sleep then?”

„Most of the time,” he said, arching one silver brow pensively, „I just don’t.”

You looked at him like you never did before. Striking bone structure, yes. Wide forehead marked with those bright lines, that undoubtedly carried some arcane meaning. Sensitive mouth, which could work you up in no time. Pale eyes, full of eternal patience and wisdom. But also deep, bluish circles under. Lines on both sides of his Greek nose. Hollowed cheeks.

He was tired. No, he was exhausted. For who knows how long.

Your heart fluttered with sympathy.

„But you’re gonna sleep with me tonight, aren’t you?” you asked, reaching out to touch his face. You had to stand on your toes to make that happen. „I hate being left alone after sex!”

He covered your hand with his and gave you a reassuring smile. „Of course.”

You strutted across the bedroom, pretending that you’re not thrilled - and scared - as much as you were. „I’m looking forward to being your guest!”

„So am I.” Suddenly he was very close to you; long, cool strands of his silky hair brushed your back. His hands reached from behind and swiftly unbuttoned your dress.

When it hit the floor, you shivered.

„It’s really happening now, isn’t it?” you whispered, leaning into him.

„Are you afraid?” His voice was calm as a pond.

„Yes.”

„Do you want me to stop?”

„God, no!”

He gave out a little musical laugh.

„What did I tell you about using that word. Also: that’s the spirit.”

You didn’t expect an archangel of Heaven to know his way around a human bra. Yet he made short work of those fancy straps. The bra was down.

Azrael brushed your collarbones with his long, cool fingers. He cupped your exposed breasts, squeezed and then massaged them a little. Your nipples hardened and dug into his palms. You let out a small groan.

He spun you on your heels; suddenly you were facing an angel caressing you with a glinting stare.

„Look at you” he hummed. „You’re a work of art.”

Your face was on fire; your whole body was. Your insides wet and tender, eager to be touched.

Of course, he knew.

„Away with that,” he said with a smile, sliding your panties down your legs. He had to kneel down before you to do that; obviously, he didn’t mind. For a moment you had a unique view at the top of the angel’s silver head. How many kings have?

And then you were naked before Azrael.

He reached his hand again and touched your lips. No, the other lips. He tipped their soft, supple, tender warmth. Then he slid his fingers inside you - maybe for an inch. You sighed urgently.

He took them away.

„Hell no!” you cried. „Don’t do this to me! Don’t keep me waiting…”

Azrael shot you a glare and pushed two fingers in at their whole length. It was such a sharp, forceful movement that you cried out again. This time mostly from pain.

He rose to his full height and looked down on you – in every possible way.

„Do you want it to be short and painful?” he asked with a clipped voice. „Because I can make it short and painful. Which is not at all what I had in mind, but if you keep rushing me, that is what I’m going to do.”

You felt faint – and confused by this sudden coldness.

„No…” you said. „I didn’t mean that…I didn’t mean to…I’m just so, so ready! Please, Azrael…Please?”

There it was: you were pleading. That holy bastard got you good.

It was incredible how fast his features changed. The disdain disappeared as if wiped away by magic and the kind-eyed archangel was back in town. You wondered how many facets this guy’s personality really had. It was beginning to get freaky.

Except that you like freaky, you thought to yourself. You thrive on it. You spent a month or two once enjoying a lover whose face you didn’t know, cause it was always covered by a bone mask. Always - even when he would fuck you so hard that you screamed.

Freaky is the name of the game.

You looked the angel in the eye and smiled.

„Sorry for being such a spoilsport,” you said. „I’ll be more compliant from now on.”

„Good girl.”

Azrael wrapped his arms around you and brushed his lips on your exposed shoulder. Then on the neck. Then on the soft skin behind your ear. He covered you with slow, leisurely kisses until you softened in his embrace. Until the stress from a moment ago was all gone, your body relaxed and pliant once more. Then he took you by the chin, leaned over and kissed you on the lips again. It was a long, tender kiss. Softer, more considerate this time.

He was so attentive to your reactions; apparently he could read your body like a book. You felt lightheaded; out of breath, out of control. It was akin to threading on a cloud.

You felt safe.

„So, where were we now?” he whispered into your neck. „Ah, yes. Disrobing you, then tying you up.”

You let out a breathy giggle and hid your face in his arm.

Azrael tightened his grip around your waist - and suddenly you became weightless. Airborne.

Those large wings rustled and spread around you in all their glory. You squeed upon realising what is going on.

He soared - and took you with him.

„I’m flying!”

„Oh, you will be” he promised.

Azrael landed in the middle of the bed and carefully put you on your back. The sheets were pleasantly cool and soft as whipped cream. He lied next to you, supported himself on an elbow and touched your exposed skin; from the collarbone, between the breasts, down your stomach and finally to your sex. He caressed your pubic crease for a while, playing with the kinky fuzz that covered it. Then he brushed his fingers over your slightly swollen clit, but made no further attempts this time.

This time you didn’t whine. You just moaned a little and begged him with your eyes.

„Honestly, I am torn,” said Azrael in a light tone that contradicted his words. „You are so beautiful and yearning right now, I’m considering just…going for it.” The archangel tilted his head and sent you a mischievous smile. His fingers started moving in a circular manner. You let out a sigh.

„But…” Azrael’s other hand crept up and pinched your nipple rather forcefully. „…I have promised you something, and promises should be kept.”

He sat up. Something colourful appeared in his hands out of thin air. Your eyes went wide open; it was a coil of fine rope, as blue as the sky behind the large arched windows.

„Now that looks like a binding proposition!” you quipped (although rather breathily.)

Azrael uncoiled most of the rope, letting it fall across the bed. It brushed your abdomen. It was velvety to the touch.

„It’s so soft…” you murmured.

„Have you ever been bound like this before?” he asked, tightening a small section of the cord in his hands and grazing your breasts with it. Your nipples were already hard, but now they went painfully tender.

„Azrael,” you said softly. „You do realise that I am not a virgin?..”

„I very much hope so” he chuckled heartily. „I would not dare to do such twisted, sinful things to someone inexperienced.”

„Well, then why are you asking me this?”

He turned serious.

„Being tied up is a very distinctive sensation. Not everyone enjoys it. I’d rather ensure that you do. It’s not fun at all if you’re only in pain.”

„Only?…”

„But a little pain can go a long way” he finished with an easy smile. Something fluttered inside of you. Figuratively.

You started to adore that strange, strange man. Angel. Person.

Azrael.

„So,” he said in a conversational tone, tying the rope to the nearest bedpost. „Did Death ever tie you up?”

„You know that if I tell you, he will have my head. And then yours for good measure.”

„That’s true” he chuckled, walking around the bed to reach another bedpost.

„I’ve been tied up before Death. Before this whole Apocalypse business kicked off. By human men. Most of them would use hemp rope, which is rather stiff and abrasive, but I liked it anyway. Even the prickling…” You sorted through memories long gone. „And the rope marks after. Yes, I liked it. A lot.”

He went silent for a long while.

„You know that I can never beg for your forgiveness enough,” he said. „For what has been done to the Kingdom of Men and to you. For what I’ve done.”

„We talked about it, Az” you smiled. „And tonight I’m supposed to be the one who does the begging. Now come over here and kiss me.”

He got on the bed and leaned over, covering you with those magnificent wings, with long strands of hair. Your world suddenly became very small and full of rosy scent. Full of Azrael. You gripped at his collar and parted his lips with your tongue, urgently, hungrily, with conviction. You wanted him and only him right now. Not memory. Not remorse.

The kiss was long and almost bruising. Finally, the angel broke contact and looked you in the eyes with such desperate tenderness that you gasped.

„Give me your hand,” he said.

He coiled the rope around your left wrist, then the right one, made a few swift adjustments here and there – and suddenly you were firmly bound to the bedposts, your arms stretched and raised above your head. It wasn’t that uncomfortable…but it was restricting. You tried to move them. There wasn’t much that you could do.

„Do you like it?” The purest smile coiled his lips. „I thought that we’ll start with something basic and see from there.”

You got so wet. You were dripping. You inner thighs probably glistened from all this wetness.

„Oh, I see…” he said in a low voice. „You do like this, don’t you.”

All that left your mouth was a small „Ah-hah.” You couldn’t find the words. Being in rope always took you apart, every time. There was something about the sensation of being bound, the thought of being at your lover’s mercy – that struck a match next to the pool of gasoline that was your soul.

Azrael was beaming.

„I could take you right now” he mused. „ And it wouldn’t be painful. Oh, maybe eventually. I can get carried away sometimes.”

The angelic chuckle was like a string of silver flown between your ears.

You arched your back, parted your legs wide open, presented to him like an animal in heat. You just didn’t care.

„Or maybe…” he brushed your calf with those long fingers, „… I will take my time. Want me to tie you up some more?”

„Yes,” you breathed.

„Yes what?”

„Yes, please do, Azrael.”

He planted a quick kiss on your ankle before binding it too. And then the other one. Soon you were completely immobilised, splayed across the bed like a naughty rendition of Leonardo’s Vitruvian Man.

You got in a daze. The taut rope dug into your skin, its velvety grip reassuring, pleasant and cruel at once. You had no control over what happens to you now. It was like getting high – almost the best kind of high that you’ve ever known.

Apart from the actual fucking.

„Azrael” you whispered, careful not to slur the words, „When does the fucking begin in earnest?”

„Soon,” he said, observing you from above. He was soaring again. You could tell that he, too, got into a zone of his own; those milky eyes have never been larger. His lips parted. He was probably admiring his ropework.

No…he was admiring you.

You could feel his blistering gaze, taking in your parted legs, your weeping, wanting slit, your soft stomach, breasts with hardened nipples and finally, your burning face.

„How ravishing you are like this,” he said hoarsely. „Oh, you have no idea. What in the Nine Hells. I’ll whip you later.”

He fell down on you like a diving hawk. Suddenly there was only fluttering of long white feathers. There was rosy smell on your lips, on your tongue, at the back of your throat. The taste of his mouth in yours. His fingers caressed every inch of your skin, his lips went everywhere. You gasped when he slid his tongue inside your folds and got to work.

„Just…don’t stop”, you cried tremulously. „I..can’t…hold…your head…when I'm like this…but don’t you stop!”

But he did. He sucked on your throbbing clit – you started to give out prolonged moans - and then he ceased to. Abruptly. You let out a whine of frustration and lust.

„What did I tell you about rushing me?” he said, looking you dead in the eye. There were mischievous sparks dancing in his. „Now you’ve gone and done it.”

Your heart pounded against your ribcage. You were on fire. Your juices poured all over the posh bedsheets. You’ve been in no state to judge whether he’s serious or joking.

Then some cheeky spark flashed in your muddled brain and you said with a small voice:

„Aren’t you gonna be awfully uncomfortable in those robes? This silk is going to get everywhere.”

Azrael’s face turned blank for a second. Then he snorted, genuinely amazed at your sass.

„Do you want to see something fun?” he asked.

„Yes!”

The archangel snapped his fingers and his clothes were gone.

Just like that. Gone. You had a completely naked, silver-haired angel lying on top of you. Holding you by the bounded wrists. Pressing his rather…very erect dick against your soft, wet, pliable lady parts.

„Oh God,” you said. „Oh, God. Oh, God.”

„Shush, my sweet” he pressed a finger to your lips. „That is blasphemy. Now the fucking begins in earnest.”

„But I want to touch you! I want to touch you everywhe-”

„Next time.”

He just went into you like a knife in butter.

You were so worked up at this moment that it didn’t hurt much, even though he was considerably big. Bigger than you somehow thought he’d be. And harder.

But even so, the sheer force of that thrust amazed you. You gave out a low guttural moan.

You wanted to embrace him so badly. To dig your palms into his slender back. To cup his face and kiss him; and then maybe lick him. Lick all over those white tattoos that rendered his otherwise subtle features slightly feral.

Hell, to brush away some of that hair. It was getting in your eyes and mouth. It covered your face with a silky, fluttering curtain. You couldn’t see much.

But you could feel him moving inside you with sharp, rhythmic thrusts. His hipbones pounding against your softness. He was all over you and all inside you. He filled you up, body and soul.

You moaned practically nonstop. It was a very undignified sound. You didn’t have any power over your vocal chords anymore.

„I love it when you sing” he gasped, stopping for a little while and giving you a frantic stare. The pupils of his eyes were crazy dilated. You got lost in them while he fucked you.

Then the pleasure rose in you – this velvety wave, which started somewhere at the base of your spine and hastily crept upward. It was like drowning in dark honey.

„I’m close now” you whispered with a rueful smile. You sincerely wish you’d lasted longer.

„I know” he breathed. Somehow Azrael got even paler, if for the exception of vivid crimson colouring his cheeks. „Go ahead. I’m not going to stop though.”

And then you opened your mouth and cried some more. Dark, sticky sweetness sunk your brain, covered your eyesight. Your throbbing insides constricted around Azrael’s cock. He went on anyway, so relentlessly that he was hurting you now. Azrael was hurting you now, just like he said he will. Somehow that made it all the sweeter.


	3. Loads of Emotional Development and then Whipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Azrael have a hearty chat about Feelings and perceived lack of such. Some emotional power play happens. Psychologically speaking, our angel is a tough nut to crack - but you somehow find your footing.  
> There's also some oral sex going on and a short, sweet session of whipping added for good measure. This chapter is an unabashed ode to Azrael's physical beauty. Just so you know.  
> It's all smutty, fluffy and angsty in equal measure.

Your climax came and went, crashing over like a wave. You thought that Azrael is being crassly inconsiderate.

You expected him to be the classy type. Someone who stops dead in his tracks and celebrates his lover’s bliss.

Instead he went at it – went at you – like a beautiful, ruthless machine. Moving back and forth in your swollen, tender insides.

It was the weirdest sensation. One part pleasure, two parts increasing annoyance.  

You almost told him to cut it out. But didn't you let this epitome of class tie you up and have his way with you as he announced?  

Rough treatment did not diminish your desire for Azrael. If anything, it made you want him more.

You got a little moist every time those narrow lips of his uttered the word „fuck”. A word you’d never suspect someone as refined as the archangel even knows.  
What you felt towards him was...complicated.  
You were complicated.

Then something else roused in you. You couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment, but in a few more thrusts the pain melted away.

Pleasure came back with a vengeance. Suddenly you were again soft, oh, so soft, pliable and hungry for more.  
A surprised, breathless yelp escaped you.  

Azrael leaned even closer. That glorious mane of his now dishevelled, falling all over his face in messy, sweaty strands.

His ferocious smile almost brushed your lips.

„That’s it” he gasped. "The second time is always better, little girl. Come for me.”  
As dazed as you were, your mind somersaulted at those words. The gall of this dude!...

„You... _holy bastard_!...” you gasped back, knowing well that it doesn’t sound very condemning. You were already on the verge again.    
And he didn’t make you wait.

It was harder this time. Longer. Sweeter. Your whole body arched into a violent spasm. The bounds that held you crackled all over.

You dug your heels into the mattress and came, drawing out his name in a prolonged sob. Once, twice. The second time your breath hitched and your voice broke.

Your own cry sounded as if coming from afar. There was only his pulsating presence within you. Only pleasure, like he requested.

The feeling of submission. The sweetest defeat.

The moment you caught your breath, Azrael covered your mouth with a violent kiss.

Then he let go, threw his head back and shuddered all over. His wings stretched fervently to their whole impressive wingspan.

It was so bizarre - yet so beautiful - that you couldn’t look away. It took you a second or two to understand that he, too has reached his peak.

How do angels climax? Pretty much like people do.  
At that moment you saw him relinquish all self-control. No more Mr Smug Guy. His white eyes half-lidded, face flushed, lips parted ever so slightly.

A hoarse moan escaped them. He looked as if he was praying.

You felt him throb inside you. Indwell you with hot liquid.

And then his long, slender body went limp. The angel sighed softly, buried his face in your breasts - and stayed that way for a while.

He was glistening from sweat. You would love nothing more than to caress his hair. But then again, your hands were tied.

A minute passed. You counted his slow breaths.

„Please tell me that you’re not asleep” you muttered.

Azrael snorted. His laughter reverberated in your solar plexus.

„I might be old, but I am not THAT old.”

„Why, you’re positively ancient!” you chuckled. He lifted his head and shot you an impish smile.  

„Apparently you like your lovers that way”.

„Yeah!” No way in Hell (or Heaven) you were gonna feel ashamed about your preferences. „What did you just call me, by the way? A little girl?”

His eyes glinted. „And what did _you_ call me? Born out of wedlock? My dear mother would be so _perplexed_.”

You felt awkward.

„Sorry about that. People tend to say weird things in the heat of the moment.”

He cocked an eyebrow. You decided to sweep this one under the rug.

„Wait. Azrael. How come that you even remember your mother? Wasn’t that, you know, at the beginning of times?”

He went serious all of a sudden. „You see” he said in a low voice, „being an angel means that I remember everything.”

You looked into those ageless eyes. Registered deep, bluish circles under them for the second time.

„So there’s no reprieve from any stupid thing you ever do or say. It’s gonna haunt you like forever.”

„That’s exactly how it works” he gave you a weary smile.

Your heart twitched. Either you were being skillfully manipulated, or he just let you at what’s actually going on under these glossy locks.

Either way, you started to care for Azrael.  
Like, more than before.  

You flexed your fingers, which apparently fell asleep.

„Could you please untie me now? I really need to use the toilet.”

„Of course.” He supported himself on one elbow and made a quick, elegant gesture. The elaborate ties fell off your limbs, rustling softly.  

You looked at your own wrists in amazement.

„That was angel magic, right?” you asked him with a grin. „If it’s so easy for you, why not tie me up magically in the first place?”

Azrael’s lips curled upward. „Because that, my dear, wouldn’t be half as fun.”

You tried to get up - and found out that you cannot. Your eyes widened in faint surprise.

A moment later he was right beside you, one long arm curled protectively around your back, another holding your hand. He gently lifted you to a sitting position.

„Too much?” He asked, watching your face from up close.

„Thanks, Az. Not at all, I’m just a little...light in the head...” you whispered, resting your burning cheek on his forearm.

Then you giggled and added: „After all, that was one hell of a double orgasm.”

Azrael brushed a damp streak of hair away from your face. „That’s an interesting way to put it, but yes.”

His smile was almost cat-like. „And I savoured your cries of delight.”

What the hell were you crying again?

 _Azrael_.

„Uh, the pleasure is mine” you muttered, suddenly hot under the collar. If you were wearing any collar, that is.

You stood up – slowly. Something wet and sticky dripped down your naked thighs. You dipped a finger in the wetness and put it in your mouth.

„Hey, you’re not gonna believe this.” You shot him the widest, stupidest happy grin. „Angel cum tastes like coconut!”

He stretched gracefully and lied on his back. Those glorious wings covered the bedsheets. „And why do you assume that I don’t know?..”

You flushed a little. Which he noticed.

„Shoo!” chuckled the angel. „Away with you for now. The bathroom” – he gestured with one long arm -  „is that way.”

Sometimes you wondered if residents of Heaven have to pee. Azrael’s posh restroom threw that doubts over the window.

Apparently they did. Or maybe your angelic companion conjured this room up just for you.  

The place was as huge and spotless white as the bedroom. The sheer diameter of the tub made you rethink what little you knew about feathered creatures and baths.

But then again, Azrael wasn’t a bird; no matter how shockingly birdlike some of his reflexes. He was…  
...he was something else.

You emerged from there properly refreshed. You had to strut through this whole ginormous, mostly empty room to reach the bed.

Azrael lied on his stomach this time. His wings relaxed, sharp chin resting on entwined fingers, twinkling eyes glued to your exposed body while you walked.

Instead of being shy, you decided to bask in his approval. Take it all in. Just like his seed.

„You’re beautiful,” he said quietly. Then he rolled over – the feathers whispered – and sat up.

„Hey, you’re not that hard on the eyes either” you quipped, getting on the bed and nesting yourself between his long legs.

Post-coital Azrael was indeed the sexier that you’ve ever seen him. He seemed younger, rejuvenated.

The once immaculate hair a wild mess, his fine features relaxed, a faint blush still gracing those pale, protruding cheeks. Which you were seriously transfixed with.

„May I…?” Your fingers almost brushed this incredibly fine, silvery fuzz that covered his jawbone. Azrael smiled and nodded, fixing you with a calm gaze.

You traced the curves of his face, holding your breath as if you’ve been allowed to touch a priceless artefact.

You tipped his forehead, went along those mysterious white markings, along the sharp line of his nose - and lower.

Your fingers brushed over the curve of his lips. Only now you realised how parched they were. Like a mortal’s.

You wanted to fix this. You wanted to fix him. To cure him of whatever he endured by living way too long within that brilliant, perverted mind of his.

Maybe to love him, even. It didn’t make much sense. You didn’t recognise your wants anymore.  

„You _unhinge_ me...” you murmured and went in for a kiss.

His eyes flicked with surprise, but then he closed them – what long, silver eyelashes he had! - put one hand on the back of your neck and pulled you in.

This time the way your lips met was almost solemn. Soft, sweet. Tender.

He enticed you only a little, his knowing tongue fluttering around yours like a candle flame. You moaned.  

One thing was certain: The Archangel of Death sure knew how to kiss.

You probably weren’t neither the hundredth nor the thousandth human that he kissed.

There must have been legions graced with his attention. They probably loved him, too; who could’ve resisted such overwhelming charm?

They all withered and died of old age, while he remained the same. Poised, elegant. Unsullied by their fleeting humanity.

In control. Always in control.

It was a chilling thought. You broke contact, breathing deeply through the nose and trying not to lose your mind.

„I like you unhinged” his lips brushed the skin of your neck. You got goosebumps.

„But I can see what’s going on in your head right now. Please don’t do this to yourself.”

You winced.

„Are you reading my thoughts, Azrael?!”

The angel let out a resigned sigh.

„I would never do such a thing.”  

„Then what do you mean?...”

He cupped your face and looked you straight in the eye. His expression was part tender, part worried and a bit of something you couldn’t decipher.

„I am a scholar. It is my job to know things.”  

You covered those slender fingers with your own.

„So you had me all figured up?...” You murmured, relishing the caress. His skin was cool and smooth.

The archangel’s lips tilted upward in a strange un-smile.

„More or less. I observed you with great care. I listened thoroughly. You are a kind person. And you’re prone to having that...saviour complex.”

„Seriously, Azrael, what the fuck.” Your hand fell off. His remained firmly where it was.

He sighed again. „Respectable as such intentions may be, they shouldn’t be applied indiscriminately.

I’m sure that Death deserves all your compassion, as tormented as he is...but I don’t.”

Suddenly all the words left you. You could only stare at him, wide-eyed, numb.

„No, I _really don’t_.” Azrael looked almost pained. His fingers still caressed your cheek.  

„I need you to understand this: there is no point in loving me because I could never love you back. Not like...he does.”  

Was it your imagination or did his breath just hitched?

„You seem awfully sure of that...” you said slowly.

„You can’t save me. It wouldn’t be fair to make you waste your time and try.”

You felt lightheaded again. Although it was not from bliss.

„Are you’re saying that you don’t have a heart? Like Howl of the Moving Castle?”

A weak-ass, desperate attempt at a joke. But hey, at this point it was either wisecracking or crying.

Azrael shut his eyes for a while, inhaled deeply and opened them again.

„Heaven help me” he said with a steady voice. „For I don’t.”

You went silent for a long while.

Azrael looked at you with calm determination and simply waited. In a way he just subjected himself to your judgement.

An all-powerful heavenly being. Waiting for a human to collect her thoughts.

 _Being a human doesn’t mean that I’m insignificant!_ cried a tiny voice inside you. _My feelings are important. I am important._  
_I am my own person._  
_Whether Azrael wants me or not doesn’t define my worth._

The dense fog that clouded your head started to disperse.

You just gave a little too hard into your afterglow. That’s all it was. Being railed like this will jack your mind up.

And he obviously _did want you_ – unless an angelic body can lie. He wanted you so very much. Just not as his loved one.

But you didn’t even need him in such a way. You had Death.

„You know what”, you said, putting a fresh smile on your face and your small hand on his, still resting on your cheek.

„I appreciate your candour. Although no one has ever been so cruel to me...while being so kind.”

Azrael’s relief was palpable.

„That’s what I specialise in.” That impish grin of his came back as if it never left.

What a player, you thought to yourself.

But a decent player. A rare kind; a fuckboy with some integrity. An honest lothario. They don’t make them like that on planet Earth.

„So you’re, as they put it, emotionally unavailable” you muttered. You traced his collarbone and then leaned in to plant a quick kiss there.  

„Yes. But I’m very much fuck-available” he stated, a smile lacing his words. „Any time you want me.”

„Good. That’s a solid base for friendship.”  

„It is.”

You kissed him again. Azrael gave out a small sigh of pleasure.

„Real questions time. Azrael, do you even shave?”

He threw his head back and laughed - again, a string of silver travelling through your ears.

„And here I thought you’d let me off the hook.”

„Seriously. I want to know!”

„I do. Once in a millennium.” He smirked.

„I mean, I call for a trusted friend. I’d probably cut my own throat from lack of practice. Last time it was actually Abaddon who shaved me.”

„You let Abaddon press a blade to your face?”

„Why not? He had way more experience with pointy instruments of bloodshed than I ever will.”

You gave out a piercing laugh, straddled his hips, pressed both palms to his chest - and pushed.

He chuckled and obediently landed on his back, on those rustling feathers. Now you had him where you wanted him.

He was all taut and angular, as slender and supple as an eighteen-year-old boy.

Covered with this incredibly fine, silverish fuzz, which tickled the skin on your forearms.

It formed a narrow path on his flat, milky white stomach and all the way down to party town.  

He was as unlike Death in the corporal department as possible. As they say: variety is the spice of life. And you savoured your spices.  

Your hands wandered lower and lower, taking in every curve of this pretty body. It seemed so fragile, so delightfully human. It sure could be aroused as one.  

You started innocently enough; with a kiss to his lower abdomen. And then another. And another.

Azrael closed his eyes and gave out a pleased hum.

Your sneaky fingers closed tightly on his half-asleep manhood and got to work. He gasped.  

„What...” that’s all he was able to say before you went in with your mouth.

Smiling with you face full of dick is no small feat, especially when said dick expands in a hasty manner. But you managed a grin.

You looked your angel dead in the eyes – now wild and wide - and sucked on him. Slowly, pensively even.

From time to time you would break the pace to caress every wet, pulsating curve of his shaft’s head with your tongue.

You were very thorough with that.

He tried to fight back a moan, Creator bless him. You just sucked harder.

Azrael gave out a series of undignified „a-a-ahs.” It was music to your ears.

Soon enough his narrow, boyish hips worked in unison with your mouth, rhythmically arching upwards so that you would take him all in by every slide.

You could feel his arousal, bordering on painfully hard. He was getting close.

„No.”  You were surprised how firm and level „no” it was.

„Hmm? Buh whye?”  

„Stop that.” Azrael reached out and caressed your ruffled hair.

„Don’t get me wrong, I love what you’re doing...but that’s enough of you coddling me. It is high time I coddled you instead.”

You let his stiff cock of your mouth and wiped your face.

„You sure? Because we could be done here in a moment or two...”

„I don’t want to be done in a moment. Or two” said Azrael with conviction. You had to admire the man’s backbone.

(And his dick. Seriously, it wasn’t the most impressive you’ve seen yet, but it was shapely.)

„Fine. Have it your way.”

Your smile soon morphed into a surprised yelp, because he sat up, got a hold of you and flipped you on your stomach. All in one swift motion.

He might’ve been thin as a toothpick, but he was anything but weak.

It was your turn to give out a disoriented „What?...”  

Azrael sat astride you and leaned in so closely that your upper bodies were touching all the way.

His hot breath rustled those little hairs on the nape on your neck. You trembled.

„I think it’s time for some whipping” he whispered into your ear. You felt as if a tiny electric shock went through your nether regions.

„Yeah! I thought you’d forgot about this by now.”

„Didn’t I tell you that I never forget anything?” There was a playful edge to his words. „Real questions time. How’s your pain tolerance?”

„Uh...I was, um, treated with a leather belt, then a leather flogger...and with a standard horse whip? I think...”

„You _think_?”    
You gave out a breathless laugh. „At that point of the evening I seriously couldn’t say. I was dead drunk.”

„Drunk shenanigans with a whip.” Azrael uttered under his breath. „How wonderful.”

„Hey, we all had that one or two experiences which we are not exactly proud of. So easy there with the moral assessment, Metatron.”

„First: what did you just call me? And second: I am by no means assessing _you_. I am assessing the whip-bearer.”

You snorted into the bedsheets.

„You know what, I’m just going to use my cognitive powers here. Does this – he slapped you on the buttcheek with the palm of his hand – hurt?”

„It tickles.”

„Oh really. How about now?” He slapped harder.

You felt a pleasant sensation reverberating through your butt. And nether regions.

„Still within the boundaries of Tickle Town.”

„And now?”  
Something stiff and leathery met the skin of your backside, producing a juicy splat.

The ants that apparently lived in your ladyparts really got to work.

„That...almost hurt”, you murmured.

„You’re good with this kind of hurting?”

„No! I mean, it’s okay, but give me more!..”

Azrael chuckled. His slender hand caressed your (still almost intact) ass.

„Don’t feel like you have to strain yourself for me”, he said. „I can have my fun no matter how hard I'm hitting you.”

„That’s so considerable” you mumbled into the bedsheets.

„I am a sadist, not some depraved monster.” That laughter of his was like a sunbeam.

Azrael conjured a few other toys – you thought „conjured”, because he put them out of thin air, apparently – to meet and greet your buttcheeks.

Some of them were flat and rigid, while other more snake-like and resilient. You received a hit after hit, one always a bit stronger than the last one.

He was a methodical man. Angel. Person.  

Your ass must’ve been nicely flushed by the time he was done.

In the meantime, your sinful insides went tender and moist, yearning for a more substantial treatment.

You were getting aroused, but not really in pain.

Which was nice. But also kinda sucked.

„That’s the last one for today,” he said in a low voice, tracing your inflamed buttocks with something cool, narrow and leathery.

You felt all the little hairs on your body stand up.

„Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?”

„Yes, that is the riding crop” said Azrael matter-of-factly and used it. You almost choked on your breath.

A flash of acute pain tore through the comfortable daze which enveloped you. You couldn’t help but give a small elated groan.

„Huh. I guess we’re finally getting results here” he said with the most level, scientific-like tone of voice. „More?”

„Yes, please” you gasped.

Another slap, another flash of red behind your firmly shut eyelids. This time you actually cried out in pain.

„You’re good? Or should I do it again?”

„Again!...”

„Again what?”  
_Oh, seriously, fuck this smug bastard_. „Please hit me again, Azrael”, you gasped.

He did.  

The thing about the riding crop is how surprisingly quickly the pain accumulates.

You might think: _Phew, that wasn’t so bad_ , and be brought to ugly tears the very next minute. It’s like wasabi for the outer flesh.

 That’s exactly what happened to you. The fourth slap made your eyes water and your whole body tremble. It really fucking _hurt_.

The older marks, left by various blunt instruments - got ignited by the cruel kisses of the whip. Your ass started to ache all over.

Azrael’s handiwork must have left some permanent bruises.

You couldn’t see much.

So you imagined the archangel - what with his intelligent, sensitive face, his all-around venerable demeanour, standing over you with a horse whip in his hands.

His lips upturned with a cruel twirl, those pale eyes half-lidded with pleasure… and sleek, sticky wetness covered your inner thights.

„You're dripping” observed Azrael in a casual tone of voice.

„One more for the road, or have you had enough?”

You didn’t answer.

„Well?”

„I... don’t know...” you whimpered. „I honestly don’t know...”

‘Don’t know’ counts as ’yes, please’ informed Azrael and smacked you again.

You screamed. It was an ugly sound; half a sob, half a piercing wail. You hurt so much.

Your battered backside was pricking, pinching and dully aching at the same time. You couldn’t take it anymore.

On the other side – you didn’t want the spell to break.

Azrael had you lying here, shamelessly presenting your ass to the stars, completely helpless and despondent and yearning.

And you relished every minute.

„Seriously though, my dear. You can just tell me to stop and _I will stop_ ” assured your angel in a friendly manner.

„But if you don’t...” he traced the curvature of your upper thighs with his tool of choice.

„No, not there! Definitely not there!” you cried out in panic.

What a lovely laugh this man had.

„Should I stop then?”

You were in a daze. Tears of pain and arousal covered your face, staining the pristine bedsheets.

You ass was in hell and your innards all soft, tender and in a dire need of a dick.

You had to spell it out.

„Take me, Azrael” you whispered. „Just...fuck me now. Okay?”

„You forgot the magic word.” _Fucking brute_.

„Please fuck me. I need you. I beg of you.”

He lied on top of you, pressed his supple body to yours. You felt his firm arousal prodding at the small of your back and gasped a little. God, he was _hard_.  

One of his long arms closed you in a tender embrace. He leaned even closer and wiped the salty wetness from your cheek.

„You are so brave and resilient and I adore you”, he whispered straight into your ear.

His other hand caressed your inner folds. Two nimble fingers zeroed in on your wet entrance and started to play with it.

You moaned.

„There, there. It won’t be long now, I promise.”

His cock slid in without much resistance. You were so ready, after all.

You felt his firm length filling you to the brim. A guttural groan escaped your lips.

„Sing away, love.” There was warmth in his voice. And what did he just call you?

Back and forth you went, back and forth, the oldest dance move of them all.

He swayed you like a ship on friendly waters, slowly, without any rush – that is, until you started to arch your hips and beg him to go harder.

Then harder he went. Sweet darkness swelled over and covered your eyes until there was nothing else in the whole world - only him.

He was a considerate man.

Angel. Person.

Azrael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this cost me a kidney or something. :D  
> As usual - comments fill my little smutty heart with Glee.

**Author's Note:**

> I think that this work might need another chapter. Does anyone want to read about the whipping?


End file.
